Happy Endings Are Easily Skewed
by Typhoid Mary4
Summary: The spell was Rumplestiltskin's plan to acheive the happy ending that he was denied. Regina may have been the one to cast it, but Rumple still plans on obtaining what he missed out on in the fairy tale world. Rumple/Gold x Miller's daughter/Grimm charact.
1. A Room Full of Straw

Disclaimer: Don't own any of it. I just changed the names, cuz that's what's going on.

Rumpelstiltskin thought that he would have a happy ending like the rest of them in the fairy tale world, but instead he ended up imprisoned. So he made a spell that would change everything, and he would finally have the ending that he wanted to happen. He just needed someone on the outside to cast it for him…

* * *

><p>Once upon a time, coinciding with all of our familiar princess' stories, there was a family so poor that they had to live off of the sweat of their brow and the deceit of the father. Most of us are, as we should be, very familiar with the story of the man who lied to his King about the amazing skill that his daughter possessed. Whether he told the King that she was able to spin straw into gold as a way of getting rid of another mouth to feed, or hoping that the king would take a liking to the pretty girl is uncertain, but we know what happens because of it.<p>

It is always the actions that we see as certain, but never really the intentions behind them. And because of this, tales can be easily skewed. Let's take the impish man that came to help the Miller's daughter for example. She hadn't known where he had come from, or why he was willing to help; nor did she really care. Her first priority was staying alive.

Rumpelstiltskin knew the girl better than she thought. He'd known her for quite awhile, and was eager to come to her aid when he learned of her fate. She was a poor girl and couldn't offer much, so when he asked what she would give him in return for his help, he gladly excepted a plain copper ring in exchange for a room full of gold.

However, when he asked what she was willing to give, he wasn't looking for anything of material value. When you can spin a mountain of straw into a mountain of gold, baubles and beauties don't really leave much of an impression. Then again, just because you have the greatest magical abilities ever known doesn't mean you know how to convey your feelings either.

When the third day came and the girl told him she had nothing left to give, Rumpelstiltskin asked her to offer her first born child to him. He thought he was being clever, and had hoped that this girl that he had done so much for would love him in return and that her first born child would belong to the both of them.

But then she married the King. Furious, but not easily deterred, he returned for that which was promised to him. Story will tell you that he was planning to eat the child, but whoever told the story must have forgotten that ogres and trolls eat babies, not imps and dwarves. Rumpelstiltskin figured that if he could not have the girl, he would have the next best thing, and by taking the child would forever hold a tie that would involve him in her life.

Knowing what he had come for, the girl cried, and as hard and cruel as he tried to be, he took pity on her and made a deal yet again. He never could stand to see her cry.

* * *

><p>:::Storybrooke, ME:::<p>

Taylor Brave lowered himself to eye level with the countertop in the welcoming center of the Psychiatric Wing of Storybrooke Hospital. With the eraser tip of his pencil, he tediously lined up several flies that he had killed and saved as souvenirs. He grinned as he examined his collection, snickering under his breath. His eyes drifted upwards, away from the tiny trophies, as a dark lean figure came in to focus. Snapping into attention as a cadet would during basic training upon spotting someone of higher command, Taylor cleared his throat and greeted the man who was approaching the booth with a slight limp.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Gold," he said confidently, the only show of nervousness revealed in the fingers that twirled the pencil from finger to finger. The older man moved to place his hand on the counter, but stopped upon seeing the dead flies. He quirked his eyebrow at the boy and rested his hand on top of his cane instead, giving him the illusion of regality.

"Ah, yes, Mister…" Gold cocked his head to the side as he looked for a nametag. The boy had none. He greeted him with familiarity, but that was to be expected. Even though Mr. Gold had never known the boy, everyone knew who he was.

"Oh!" the boy had caught on. "Brave. My name, I mean, not," he shrugged, "my demeanor, I guess."

Mr. Gold squinted at him as his mouth stretched and pursed, as if he found the boy amusing but didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing. "Right, well. I've just come for a visit. I believe you have a patient named Penelope Miller?"

The boy grinned cheekily. "Oh, she checked out just this morning!" Mr. Gold grimaced as dread enveloped him before a voice called out from behind him.

"Oh no she didn't!" Mr. Gold turned to see who was addressing them while Taylor leaned to glance over Mr. Gold's shoulder. A man in his mid thirties with a faint yellow scruff of a beard had a sturdy grip on the young woman's elbow, who looked quite dejected as he lead her back through the wing. "Taylor," the man barked at the youth behind the counter. "What have I told you about messing around out here? I don't need people thinking that patients have become part of the personnel. This isn't some Scottish tv show!"

Taylor ignored him as his grinned widened towards the girl. "Guess you owe me fifty bucks, toots. Told ya you wouldn't make it out of here." The young woman glared at him and, without a word, lunged forward and blew each fly off the counter with a single breath. Taylor gave a cry of dismay as his hands grabbed at his own hair while he watched the bugs float to the ground.

"Now, now, dearie, that wasn't very nice," Mr. Gold grinned at Penelope, who gave him an equally dark look.

"What do you want?" She had a soft voice, but it lacked either the hatred or accusation that he had been expecting. Either her time here had made her numb, or her medication made her apathetic. Mr. Gold turned to the head nurse, whom he had become familiar with over the years of his sporadic visits.

"Elroy, do you mind if I have a minute with my ward?" Elroy dropped his hand from Penelope's arm and approached Taylor, who immediately began to shy away. Leaving the boy to his punishment, Mr. Gold lifted his hand toward the common area down the hall in invitation, where they could sit and talk.

As the pair strode along, Penelope not bothering to keep pace with the slower Mr. Gold, she shot over her shoulder, "Don't call me your ward. This isn't Batman and fucking Robin." Gold didn't like the lack of tone in her voice. She sounded tired and looked worse. Large round eyes had become overshadowed by dark circles, and that pouty little lip that used to try to get whatever it wanted was now lackluster and chapped. He could even see a few gray hairs sticking out of the messy brown hair that had been pulled into a ponytail.

By the looks of things, she was getting a taste of what he had experienced in that dungeon for so many years. She still had it so much better than he had, but that wasn't the point. The point was vengeance, and in his opinion, it didn't really begin until she agreed to their bargain.

"I assume then, by that little display just now, that you are ready to honor our deal." He rested himself on a comfortable looking but rather stiff chair facing the window. 'Cheap hospital furniture' he thought as he shifted on the lumpy cushion.

Penelope plopped into an abandoned wheelchair that had no business out in the common area and began nudging herself backward and forward with her toe. She stared out the window rather than look at him. "Oh, I don't know," she drolled, "Elroy and I had a nice little chat as he escorted me back into the wing, and I believe I have grown rather fond of my new 'home.'" He finally heard a sliver of emotion in her voice as she spat out the last word.

Gold leaned forward and jammed his cane into the rungs of the wheel, keeping it from moving. The constant swinging had begun to annoy him. Penelope finally turned to look him in the eye. She could see that he was done playing.

"Miss Miller, I have not been known for my kindness, and perhaps that's why I've been so successful in my business. It leads me to believe, then, that I have been too kind to you." His voice was a low rumble, barely above a whisper as his dark eyes bored into her wide blue ones. "You have done a great job skirting the issue for many years, but now I believe that it is time for things to change." After all, things had been changing so very, very much. First the Clock Tower, then the Underground Railroad system, now it was time for her to change as well, and for his plan to move forward. Mr. Gold was a patient man, but he knew he was running out of time.

"I don't understand why you insist on staying here when you've had multiple opportunities of freedom." He finished.

"There's no such thing as freedom where you're involved," she stated plainly. "Maybe that's why I've always decided to stay, but…" she shook her head and pressed her fingertips to her temple. Gold thought he saw a nerve twitch just below her eye. "I don't know. I feel like… like I can't go. Or shouldn't." Gold frowned as he watched her brow furrow in confusion. So that's what it was, then. Something else was at play here. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Elroy in the distance, writing something down on a clipboard.

Pulling his cane free from the wheelchair, he stood, and Penelope glanced up at him. "Leaving already?"

Mr. Gold grinned down at her and gave a small wink. "No, deary, I think I'm going to go spin you some gold."

* * *

><p>If it seems confusing, don't worry, all will be revealed. :) And yes, I know that the baby theory doesn't match the Cinderella episode, but bear with me! I wrote this before that aired and I will make it work!<p>

Also, I took a painstakingly longer than necessary amount of time to pick out my names.

Penelope Miller: Cunning weaver (in the fairytale she's described as clever) and Miller is just obvious.

Taylor Brave: I hope you guys got this one. It's the brave little tailor! He's being hospitalized for paranoia and megalomania (also, he thinks he's a giant).

Elroy: You'll find out ;) but I'm sure the name gives it away.


	2. The Hand That Spins the Wheel

Chapter Two: The Hand That Spins the Wheel

_Of all the characters I've written about, Gold/Rumpel has got to be the hardest personality to peg. Has anyone else noticed how much of a drastic change his demeanor takes from fairy tale to real world? He seems to have almost a manic personality in fairytale land, while in Storybrooke he seems more reserved. I would have thought that personality would stay the same, but with the route that I'm taking with this story, I can actually use that to my advantage. I think._

_We'll find out!_

_SOOOO, I just heard a rumor that the evil queen is the miller's daughter. If this is true I'm going to be pissed. Mostly because I want to believe that Rumple will have his happy ending . But I've also decided that when this comes around I'm going to work it in too. Somehow. I guess I'll find out whether or not I can spin these words into gold! … Sorry, I couldn't resist._

* * *

><p>"So I hear you had a nice chat with Penelope," Mr. Gold said as he approached Elroy, who glanced briefly at him before returning to his notes.<p>

"She's a lovely girl. Why wouldn't I want to have a 'nice chat' with her?"

Mr. Gold tightened his grip on his walking cane, but the nurse took no notice, either due to lack of observance or conceit in his own actions. "Mind if I ask what the discussion was about?"

"Actually," Elroy slid the clipboard into a cubby on the wall and turned to the older man, whom he seemed to loom over. "I do."

Gold's lips set into a thin line as he narrowed his gaze to threatening slits. "Perhaps I should remind you that the girl is here under my insurance, and under contract any matters concerning her are to be reported to me."

Elroy almost smirked, but at the very least knew where to draw the line at cockiness in front of Gold. "I think you mean to say 'legal and medical matters,'" he countered. "NOT private conversations between two consensual adults. If you have a problem with that," Elroy turned away from Mr. Gold, dismissing him. "Take it up with the Mayor."

Gold had known that intimidation would only get him so far, especially with someone as arrogant as Elroy. "You have a point," he sighed, scanning the cubby holes filled with clipboards and stacks of files. "Penelope is 26 years old, after all; I shouldn't pry into her affairs." His eyes fell on a file labeled 'Miller, P.' He pulled it out with long, swift fingers. "Although, I would hate to see you forced to resign due to indecent affairs with a patient." Gold slipped the file into his suit jacket just as Elroy turned to glare at him.

"Glad we had a chance to talk," Gold said with a wry smile and wink as he walked back to the common area, where he had left Penelope. He didn't need magic to tear a man down in the world, which both simplified and complicated things. Magic would have made it quicker, but dirtied the hands.

* * *

><p>"I didn't know you were claustrophobic."<p>

Penelope turned away from the window at the sound of Gold's voice. "I'm not—where did you get that?"

"Just lying around," he murmured teasingly as he thumbed through the pages. "Prone to violent fits…" he arched an eyebrow at her. "I can see that." She stuck out her lip in a pout for answer. "List of medications; nothing abnormal," yet nothing truly necessary, either, but he kept that information to himself. "Ah, here we are: recent visitors."

"Oh please. You know you are the only person who comes in to check on me." Penelope crossed her arms and leaned a shoulder into the glass, watching those who passed below.

"I've never come in to 'check in on you,' dearie, you're not a piece of property." Penelope gave him a look that clearly told him she did not believe him. "Nevertheless," he continued, "I see your father's been around."

Penelope's head snapped around, a look of surprise and anger sparking across her face. "What?" she hissed.

"He hasn't seen you?"

"No."

"Well, then fortunately for him he hasn't breached his contract. Must have been a new volunteer listing him as one of your visitors. Still," he trailed off, and Penelope finished his thought.

"He has no business being here."

"Tell me, what was it exactly that Elroy told you today?"

Penelope's brow scrunched as she continued to stare out the window, her eyes focused on nothing in particular. She was silent a moment before answering. "I can't really remember."

Gold tapped his finger on the bind of the folder, pushing a stray lock of dusty brown hair behind his ear. He was becoming increasingly suspicious. "How can you not remember? This barely happened an hour ago."

"Guess it wasn't important," she muttered but Gold could tell that it bothered her to not be able to retrieve that information.

He closed the file and tucked it under his arm. "I think you should stay away from Mr. Elroy King for the time being."

Penelope turned and looked him straight in the eye, giving him the full effect of her large, round blue orbs. "I think you should mind your own business." Gold gave her a disapproving look as he reached out and ran his thumb along her cheek. She did not shy away from his touch, but the look in her eyes made it known to him that his touch wasn't welcome. He ignored it.

"You are my business, dearie, whether you like it or not."

He was right to come in today, he realized as he turned and walked away. It seemed that events were progressing, with or without him; he needed to make sure he kept the ball rolling in the right direction.

* * *

><p>Conner Miller grunted as he pulled himself off the couch when he heard the tapping. He set his can of beer on the coffee table, sans coaster, and grumbled his way to the front door.<p>

Mr. Gold stood on the other side.

Conner stuttered his name in surprise; he hadn't seen the man since he signed that contract… how many years ago had it been?

"May I come in?"

"Uh… s-sure, yeah," Conner moved to the side to let Mr. Gold cross the threshold into the small hutch of his mobile home. His eyes glanced over the modest surroundings, taking notice of the empty beer cans and other trash lying around. Conner couldn't help but notice how out of place the man looked, wearing designer suits in an unkempt trailer.

"A little bird told me you've been hanging around Storybrooke's Psychiatric Hospital," Gold cut to the chase as he scrutinized the short, greasy man.

"Elroy's my friend," Conner defended himself, scratching the gray bristles on his chin. "Ain't got nuthin to do with our contract."

"Strange, I wouldn't think you and he would have anything in common, besides Penelope, of course." Gold's stare was unrelenting. When Conner only shuddered and fought down the lump in his throat, Gold stepped towards him. The man smelled of sweat and yeast. "It would be in your best interest that I don't discover that she's been the topic of your conversations." He could see fear forming like smoke in the man's eyes. "if you have something to tell me, it's best to tell me now."

Conner's eyes began to move as his mouth did—stumbling, darting, quivering—they danced around every object in the room but never met Mr. Gold's form. His fear of the man was as uncomfortably strong as over-sweetened fudge, choking the back of one's throat.

"E-Elroy, he… he's taken a liking to my girl. Gonna take care of her real good; we both know yer generosity's gonna run out soon. Gotta think about my options…"

Mr. Gold decided to be patient. One wrong word and he might find the man sobbing on the floor. "Mr. Miller… what did you do?" he asked, his Scottish brogue tilting his voice in an almost sing song tone, punctuating every word.

Conner licked his lips, still avoiding Gold's gaze, looking for all the world like he was trying to find the right words to convey his thoughts. Mr. Miller was a man of limited education and expressed himself through action; words were not easy to come by. "He's got 'er files, ya know. He can say she's right as rain an' she'll be out. Den he can take care of her."

Gold realized what he had was a situation where one man was too self absorbed to think of the consequences, and one man that was too stupid to think ahead. Good thing Penelope had at least one intelligent man in her life, he considered. What would that ungrateful girl do without him? He knew that Elroy wouldn't be able to alter her files without the approval of Archie Hopper, her psychologist, and once the man was discovered for forgery, he would be fired and Mr. Gold would be confronted as legal guardian about the endangerment of Penelope. He would then be able to request to have the girl taken out and, given the circumstances, kept as he saw fit.

Things were working out so perfectly he could have laughed. In fact, he did.

Conner shuddered at the sound of the man chuckling beside him, his eyes growing ever rounder. He knew that if someone like Mr. Gold was laughing after hearing what he thought would be bad news something was very, very wrong.

"What'd I say?"

Gold gave Conner a dark smile, almost threatening, yet boastful at the same time. "Happy endings don't work like that. Not for you. Not for her. Not here."

* * *

><p>Trees. Storybrooke would never be at a loss for trees. They seemed to grow like a hydra out there, ten sprouting up where one was cut down. It must have been their sole purpose to wall them off from the rest of the world, and so far they had succeeded. Nobody had ever left Storybrooke, not that Penelope could recall, but she wasn't really interested in leaving. She didn't want to stay, but she couldn't imagine leaving. She didn't really know what she wanted, or where she wanted to be, but she thought that maybe it would be nice to not feel passed around for once. To make a decision that didn't hinge on the outcome of a contract that she had never even made.<p>

At that moment she was being 'passed' over to Mr. Gold's care. The man had finally gotten what he had wanted. She should have known he would never have taken no for an answer. But what was he getting out of this? Was this just some sick game to him, to flex his power like invisible muscles over every inhabitant of Storybrooke? Well, everyone but the mayor, but there were enough rumors to suggest that he had his own unique hold over her as well.

'Holy crap, I feel like _Annie_,' she thought as the cab pulled up to Gold's estate. She half expected some bald guy and several butlers and maids to burst out of the door welcoming her in with a musical number, but everything remained eerily still. She let out a breath as the cab came to a stop. If she were in a musical, she would bet that it would be closer to _Phantom of the Opera_. "Still better than Sweeney Todd," she breathed. "Although I'd even take _Into the Woods._"

"What about the woods?" The driver asked as he opened the passenger door for her. Since she had made no move to exit the vehicle, the driver had decided to come around and escort her out. He had places to be.

"Oh," Penelope could feel herself blush when she found out he had heard her talking to herself. She decided to play it off. "Just talking to myself. You know us crazy people." She grinned at him and slid out, dragging her duffel bag—just large enough to carry everything she owned—out with her. The driver gave her an uneasy smile and sidled off, eager to peal out of the massive driveway.

Penelope shouldered her bag and clambered up the steps to the front door, shifting the weight on her shoulder until she found the least painful spot that the strap could dig into. Raising her fist to the door, she swallowed hard, and realized how dry her throat was. 'It's just the effects of the medication leaving my system,' she told herself, but she knew that there was another reason for her apprehension. Upon being pulled from the institute, it had been announced that all prescriptions she had been taking were false and she would no longer be using them. It was a pity; she had gotten used to the numbness.

She tapped her knuckles on the French doors, each knock getting louder than the first as she tried to swallow her anxiety. With her last brush against the door, however, she wondered how successful she would be if she simply ran away.

'And do what?' she asked herself. She had no money, no job—and who would hire a psych ward outpatient? Her shoulders slumped with the realization. "I hate my life."

On the other side of the door, she heard a girl calling out. Penelope leaned closer, trying to make out what the voice was saying.

"Coming! I'll be right—," the voice was cut off with a loud crash and the sound of something banging against the floor. Eyes wide, Penelope continued to stare at the dark wood, wondering if she should barge in and help or burst out laughing.

Finally the door turned inward, revealing a girl with blond hair who was holding a broom that was broken in half.

"Damn thing just walked right in front of me! Hello!"

"Hi…" Penelope wasn't sure what to say that would accurately explain her situation to the young girl standing in front of her. She had hoped that Mr. Gold would be the one to meet her and give her a few answers.

"Oh, yes, you're Penelope. Come in!" The younger girl moved away from the door, kicking a bucket behind her in the process. "Please be careful, I knocked over a bucket of water."

"Yes, I see…" she tip toed over the waterlogged floor, not wanting the water to soak through her converse. Nothing worse than soggy socks. She felt like a child who would skip over cracks in the sidewalk because she had just learned about the superstition that stepping on one could break your mother's back.

"My name is Ashley. I'm the maid; Mr. Gold told me all about you. I'll show you up to your room if you want." Ashley smiled warmly at her as she made her way to the large staircase that curved elegantly to the second floor, not quite as worried about the water as Penelope was.

"So, am I going to be cleaning here too?" Penelope asked as she followed Ashley up the stairs. Ashley shot a confused look behind her and risked tripping once more.

"Why would you do that?"

Penelope blinked and shook her head, feeling like an idiot. "I don't know. Nevermind." Ashley stopped in the middle of the stairwell.

"Oh my God," she moaned, "are you my replacement? He's going to fire me, isn't he? Oh, this can't happen, how am I going to feed Alexandria?" her hands came up to her forehead, rubbing her temples. Penelope felt like even more of an idiot.

"N-no! No, of course not. If anything, we'll be partners, I'm just… I'm not sure what I'm doing here." Penelope was stammering, which she did a lot when she got nervous. She wished that she could sound more convincing, especially when she caught a glimpse of tears in the girls eyes, but she honestly didn't know what Mr. Gold's plans were. For all she knew he would lock the two girls in the basement and burn the house down. The man was impossible to predict.

"Oh," Ashley nodded, worry still etched into every tiny, premature line on her face. "Of course." She turned and continued up the stairs.

"Is he here?" Penelope quickly changed the subject. She wasn't entirely looking forward to being around him as often as her new living quarters would force her to be, but a distraction wouldn't be unwelcome either.

"No, he's a busy man. He usually comes home around seven, sometimes later. Sometimes he comes home in the middle of the day, though. Must be nice, getting to make your own schedule. Here we are!" She opened a door halfway down the hall, and Penelope could feel her eyes strain as they attempted to take in the expanse of the room. It was like a five star hotel, or the honeymoon suite, not that she had ever seen one first hand. The bedroom was easily half the size of her father's trailer, and the canopy bed looked like it was meant to hold several people.

Penelope let her duffel bag slip off of her shoulder and slump to the floor. "Okay…" she breathed, turning her eyes upon every inch of the room. There was a vanity in one corner, a couple of bookshelves, a door which she could only assume lead to the walk-in closet, and another door which gave her a peek into an attached bathroom.

"It's not really furnished, but," Ashley grunted as she hefted up Penelope's abandoned luggage. "We didn't have a lot of time to prepare."

"Are you kidding? This is amazing." She shook her head. Forget about being uncomfortable with living in Mr. Gold's house—she could just stay in this room forever if she could figure out how to get her meals in. She noticed Ashley lift her bag onto a settee in front of the bed and thanked her as the girl walked back out of the room.

"I'll let you go ahead and get unpacked. I'll be here all day, so once you're ready I'll give you the grand tour."

* * *

><p>When Gold's sleek black Ferrari slowed to a stop in the circular driveway in front of his estate, he could see through the orange dusk that Ashley was leaving for the night. He stepped out of the car as he addressed the woman descending the front steps.<p>

"How did she like the place?" he asked, and the small smirk he wore disappeared when he saw the worried look on the teen's face.

"You know, she really liked her room, but when I let her unpack I never saw her after that." Ashley tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and shrugged. "It's probably a hard transition for her to make."

His eyes darted up to the second story window that filtered the last bit of sunlight into the room Penelope was staying in. There was no light on inside the room, and he could not see any movement from his vantage point. He would have to inspect the situation from within.

"Thank you Ashley, I'll see you in a few days." He brushed past her and unlocked the door, swinging it shut behind him as he advanced up the stairs as quickly as his injured leg would allow. If he thought about it long enough, Mr. Gold would realize that he wasn't worried about the girl leaving, or being in poor health. He knew that neither would be likely, but he was a man who was so addicted to having his way that it frazzled his nerves to think that something could have possibly gone awry.

He stopped in front of her door and listened for any movement. Even though the girl had not even been there for a full day, and though the house was Gold's possession, he still considered the room to belong to her and felt that barging in would be inappropriate.

Not to mention that it would work in opposition of the necessity of her liking him.

Hearing nothing, and noticing the door slightly ajar, Gold nudged the amber colored wood with the toe of his shoe. It creaked quietly as it gave way; normally Mr. Gold would request to have such a hitch fixed immediately, but decided that it would come in handy when listening for sneaky residents.

Inside the room he could see Penelope lying on her back horizontally on the bed, her feet hanging off the edge. Her duffel bag lay packed and unzipped on the settee, and she hadn't bothered to remove her shoes. He could tell by her even breathing that she was sleeping, and it must have taken her unaware. He walked over to her, picking up his cane so that it wouldn't thump against the floor. Sitting on the edge of the bed where he was closer to her face, he leaned over her, realizing that the last time he had watched her sleep was decades before the curse had taken hold. She was much less angry then, but then so was he. Perhaps now when everything was so wrong he could finally start to make things right with them.

As he fingered a strand of her brown hair, he had a vague recollection of how his own hand used to gleam with a sickly gold sheen. His impish form had been so repulsive to many people—he could see it in their stares—but now he was just like her. She had rejected him before, but everyone makes mistakes. This time, he would simply not allow her to make a decision. Then she couldn't make the wrong one. And when he knew that she loved him as much as he had loved her, he would make her feel as rejected and torn as he had been on that day.

He stared at her soft, pale lips that were parted welcomingly. _True love's first kiss_. He wondered if she had been kissed before. He was certainly trying very hard to be patient and remain aloof, but she was sleeping… what was the harm?

He leaned over and brushed his mouth against hers. It was something he waited so, so long to do, and he relished the thought of finally possessing her mouth with his own when she was fully comprehensive. He kissed her longingly, but not too deeply. She was as soft as he had dreamed and sweeter. As he pulled himself away he held his breath, almost hoping that her eyes would flutter open as if the magic of his kiss had awakened her from the curse.

She twitched slightly, but continued to sleep.

Of course, he should have known, that particular fairytale belonged to someone else.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I will be unveiling a little bit more about Penelope's and Rumple's past a little bit at a time. I thought about putting a bit of the fairytale past in this chapter, but decided to wait until the next episode so that I can see what is revealed._


	3. Shea

**Yay! Look at me! I'm updating! **

**Sorry for the wait, and thank you for all the favs, and for putting up with me. You will probably be able to tell that this chapter was written at different points in time. Actually, the majority of it was written during my Short Story class, which is only about an hour long, and I didn't always continue where I left off. That and having to write newspaper articles, I've been stuck in 'short and succinct' mode, which is very hard to turn off. **

* * *

><p>It's unnerving to wake up in an unfamiliar setting even when a person is prepared for it before his or her head hits the pillow. It's downright frightening when that person doesn't even remember falling asleep and wakes up in a room that he or she barely spent five minutes in beforehand.<p>

Penelope woke with a start, knowing before she even opened her eyes that something was off. For one thing, there was nothing supporting her feet. She hoisted herself up to a sitting position, the top half of her body braced by her arms stretched out behind her. The memory that was slowly unfolding seemed more like a dream than reality, yet her surroundings and the soft satin sheets against her palms proved just how real it was.

So then, had all those years in the Storybrooke hospital been the dream?

Almost floating through her own life, Penelope slid off the bed, wandering around the sparsely furnished room that was ultimately empty of anything resembling her presence. The only familiar thing was the worn duffle bag either waiting to be unpacked or carried off again. She left it at the foot of the bed as she pulled open the door that exited to the hallway, jumping slightly as it squeaked in protest.

Somewhere in the depths of the house, the vastness of which was still a mystery to her, a clock ticked. It's deep, reverberating tones accentuated the silence. She was so used to some kind of chaos moving around her, the complete lack of sound made her feel so… _sane. _Almost claustrophobically so. For the first time in many years she was finally alone with her thoughts, and she had no idea what to do with them.

Fiddling with the hem of her shirt she wandered further down the hall, away from the stairs that had initially led her to that spot. Her steps seemed to fall in time with the movement of the invisible second hand, adding to the ghost-like quality of her existence. Every once in awhile she would pass a door, but was too afraid to open it.

"I was wondering in when Sleeping Beauty would wake."

Penelope shot a good foot in the air, jolted from her trance-like state. She whirled around, searching for the source of the voice. She had walked past an open door that revealed a dimly lit room. Penelope had to walk inside to inspect it further. It must have been an office or library, because there was a desk on one side of the room, framed by several bookshelves. Sitting at the desk, half-lit by the small lamp, was the man himself.

"How did you sleep?"

She frowned as she turned his question over in her mind, sliding her fingers down the spines of the old books on the bookshelf.

"I thought maybe I was dreaming at first." The books felt solid and slightly dusty.

"Well, that's always better than a nightmare, isn't it?" He smiled almost mischievously at her, and she squinted her eyes at him.

"I'm not sure which is which anymore."

"What? Dreams and nightmares, or dreams and reality?"

Penelope moved away from the books, brows elevated as she browsed the rest of the knickknacks decorating the office. "Good question," she answered.

Mr. Gold chuckled and lifted himself from the ornate chair behind his desk, grabbing his cane as he pushed his way towards the middle of the office.

"Come on, dearie, let's have a cup of tea. That should clear your head a bit."

It was then that Penelope remembered Ashley's promise of a tour of the house. She must have gone home by that time, and Penelope pressed her lips together, wondering what the girl must think of her.

"Ashley will be back tomorrow, you can catch up then," Gold said, as if he had read her mind. It always unnerved her, the way that man seemed to know how she felt or what she was thinking. She had spent so many sessions with Dr. Hopper and still couldn't figure out the inner sanctum of her own mind, so how could Mr. Gold do it so easily?

He held his hand out, inviting her to take it as a guide, but Penelope decided to walk out of the office on her own. She turned in the direction she assumed the kitchen would be.

"Other way, dearie."

Penelope turned and headed the other way.

* * *

><p><em>The village was small, and the entirety of its occupants could hear the yelling that was coming from the mill. Excitement there was scarce, so a handful of young girls pulled their buckets to the well in the middle of the square to better hear the squabble. The Miller and his daughter, Shea, had been at odds ever since she had turned eighteen. The mill had not been profitable for several years, and the miller was resigned to marry his daughter off to the first wealthy man that came through the village. His daughter, of course, was not very receptive of his plan. She didn't argue with her father often; in fact, ever since the mill began to struggle she had acquired several odd jobs around the village, including some light housekeeping for Rumpelstiltskin while his wife, Hildy, was pregnant. They couldn't pay her much, and Rumpelstiltskin always felt guilty about that, as he considered her pleasant company far more valuable than her less than impeccable cleaning.<em>

_Eventually the ruckus died down and there was quiet for a few minutes before Shea flew out of the house, whipping her cloak around her shoulders as she stomped away. The girls at the well bowed their heads to avoid the suspicion of their eavesdropping, trying not to let their eyes follow the girl as she passed them and headed out of the village._

* * *

><p>"You can leave at any time, you know," Gold set the expensive china in front of Penelope, who seemed detached and lost in the woods just outside the parlor window. She glanced down at the tea cup, but Gold guessed that she barely saw it. "Peppermint tea. Great for soothing frazzled nerves."<p>

"And where would I go?" she asked, finally looking up at him.

"Well, that's up to you," he grunted slightly as he lowered himself into a chair across from her. "Isn't it?"

She cocked her head and considered her cup of tea again. "So I can leave at any time, just so long as I have nowhere to go," she squinted her eyes at him with a trained suspicion. "Because what good would I be to you then, if I actually had somewhere to go?"

"Well, what good are you to me now, if you believe that you are being forced to stay here?" he countered. "Indentured slavery is illegal, dearie, and so is kidnapping. I would never dream of keeping you here against your will. I'm not a beast," he smirked at her.

"And I'm no beauty," she said, recognizing his fairy tale reference. "Although, I don't really know what you want of me. I was hoping that you could enlighten me." She sniffed at her tea before taking a sip barely big enough to wet her lips.

"I just want to protect you, Penelope. You were placed in the hospital for your own safety, and now you've been taken out for the same reason. I want to give you some of the comfort that I have to offer, but you have to be the one to accept it." His dark eyes bore into hers from across the table, pulling her in with soft pleas and deeper enticement.

Penelope held his gaze for a long time, not quite wanting to break the spell, but not wanting to fall victim to it, either. He could be so beautiful sometimes, and promise even more beautiful things. That made him the most dangerous man she had ever known.

* * *

><p>"<em>So I heard the news," Jack said as he plopped down on a stool next to Shea.<em>

"_Well, that was fast," Shea's voice was muffled by the mug she was staring into. She could, unfortunately, clearly see the bottom of it. The truth was, Jack actually hadn't heard of the news very quickly. It was a small town, and walls were thin. Had he learned of her dilemma before she had started her first drink, then she would have been surprised._

"_So what are you going to do?" Jack asked as he gave the bartender the universal signal for two more drinks. There had been a long time when the bartender tried to serve Jack nothing but milk, but Shea, who was well known for having bigger balls than her slightly effeminate friend, was also known for being a little crazy. The bartender didn't want Shea to test her theory of just how combustible the bar was. _

"_What can I do? I don't want to forsake my own happiness, but neither do I want to subject my father to poverty." She put her elbows on the bar and tucked her chin into the nook of her arms. "Ultimately, if my father loses the mill, I become homeless too." _

_Jack frowned, sympathizing with his friend. His pockets were likewise as empty as hers. "You know that if I had the money…" _

_Shea smirked, and gave Jack a grateful nod. "Thanks, darling, but I know I'm not your type."_

_He shrugged as he swallowed half of his ale. "I don't know, I can probably fake it."_

_This caused Shea to laugh, and she instantly looked better for it, her large, doll-like eyes twinkling with slight inebriation. Jack stared past her, seeming to contemplate something through the window behind her._

"_How much does your father need to secure the mill, anyway? I've got a pretty decent sized cow I could sell…"_

_Shea gave Jack a mock glare, and he met her gaze. "I will _not_ let you sell Dijk! You love that cow more than me." She squinted her eyes at him. "I _know_ how much you love that cow."_

_Jack blushed at her insinuation. "Shea! That's offensive!"_

"_It's a jest!" she laughed. "But I still won't let you sell her. Him? Which is it now?"_

"_You're drunk."_

"_I wish," she muttered as she finished the mug Jack had handed her earlier. _

_Shea's eyes trailed down into the depths of the bar, drawn to stare at something she had spied earlier. Rumpelstiltskin sat alone at a table in a corner, mulling over a habit he had recently picked up. It had been easy, at first, for her to ignore his presence, but the slow dissolution of her inhibitions was making it hard to focus on her resolution._

_Noticing her shift in attention, Jack glanced back at Rumpelstiltskin before leaning over and whispering "What are you doing?"_

_Shea wasn't sure, other than wondering if Rumpel knew, had heard, or if he even cared what happened to her. She wanted to ask. She was brave, but not that brave._

_Something heavy covered her hand, and she looked up to find Jack's hand around hers. She looked at him and he shook his head. 'It's not your place,' he seemed to say._

_She smiled, "Thank you."_

"_I give very good advice," Jack said around another mouthful of ale. "I just seldom ever follow it." She giggled and Jack patted her hand as he slid off of his stool. "Come on, I'll walk you home."_

_As soon as he said that, they both realized the dilemma, their faces falling as they exchanged glances._

"_I can't go home," her tone was more desperate than rebellious. _

"_What else can you do?" Jack couldn't let her stay at his house. He didn't have authority to make that decision, and his home was too small anyway to hide her from his mother._

_Once again her eyes wandered over to Rumpel's hunched form._

"_Shea… no…" Jack warned._

"_Just for the night," she pleaded. For some reason, she needed Jack's permission, needed to know that what she was going to do was acceptable. She didn't always trust herself. "I'll figure out what needs to be done, which will be far easier with the sun shining."_

_Jack sighed. He knew her decision was made. If he fought her, he would only succeed in giving her a guilty conscience, but ultimately he couldn't stop her._

_Both of them knew better, but neither made the best decisions._

"_We'll find a solution," he nodded at her, grabbing his jacket. "Tomorrow." _

_Left alone, the alignment of tables and chairs seemed to open up a perfect path for Shea to follow, and she wondered if it was temptation or salvation that beckoned her wander. Sometimes one's demise can be shrouded in hope. _

_And it was a surprisingly short walk to find out which awaited her. _

_Rumpelstiltskin was beginning to stand as Shea walked up behind him, so when he turned to head towards the exit of the bar she was there to greet him. "Shea!" he exclaimed in surprise. "What on earth are you doing here?" The tavern wasn't, in his opinion, a decent place for innocent girls to be wandering around. That was what he told himself, anyway. In reality he was quite ashamed for Shea to see him in his current state. _

"_I was in need of an escort home," she replied as she grabbed his elbow with both hands, steadying him as she walked with him to the door. "And I can see perhaps you need one as well." _

_The warmth in his cheeks was not entirely the fault of the draughts he had been drinking. "Of course." Thoughts were flooding his mind as he walked in step with her out of the tavern. Things he wanted to say, questions he wanted to ask, conversations he would have liked to start. _

_In the distance, an owl emitted a mournful hoot. _

_Those soft hands shifted on his arm, and Shea changed her grip so that he seemed to escort her through the street as if he were a gentleman. She sighed and stared up at the stars, and the small smile on her face was transferring some of her contentment to him. _

"_Have you ever made a wish on one of those?" she asked him. He looked up at the patches of white orbs, mere glitter compared to the diamonds reflected in her eyes. _

"_No," he stated simply._

_Penelope sighed, her head bowing. Rumpel was afraid he had hurt her feelings. "It must be nice," she murmured, "having everything you could possibly desire." _

_Her statement confused him, and his brows bunched together. "What do you mean?" She looked at him as if the answer were obvious._

"_Well, you have everything you could ever want, so why would you need to wish upon a star?"_

_The smile he gave her was sad and somewhat shameful. "No, dearie, I just don't believe that my wishes will come true." He figured that would be the end of it, but Shea stopped, her grip on his arm causing him to take a step back to her. _

"_What do you mean?"_

_He wasn't sure how to answer that question. He was a poor man stuck in a common trade and marriage of convenience. He had known very few happy times in his life, most of which occurred after he and his wife had moved to that village, where land was cheap and just a little bit more affordable for him. The way he saw it, his fate as a simpleton was set, and the things that he wanted he was not only afraid to have, but very much aware of how far out of reach they were. "Not everyone gets a happy ending."_

_Now he had hurt her feelings. Her lower lip trembled, something he had come to realize occurred both when she was angry or sad. "Certainly not if you don't at least try." Her lips pursed together and she tugged at his arm. "Come here. I want to show you something." _

_Rumpel allowed her to drag him off of the road and into the weeds growing forgotten between the dark alleys of shops and cottages. Their footsteps gave way in the soft dirt that had seen rain just the day before as they went further out, towards the staggered trees that would eventually become a dense forest. The area was bright where the trees were still sparse, the moonlight bouncing off of a sliver of water that the two followed to a large pond. Penelope let go of Rumpel's arm and slid out of her slippers, wading into the dark water that seemed to swallow her delicate ankles. Gathering up the folds of her skirt, she knelt down and let her fingers dip into the water, watching the ripples bend the moon. _

"_Come here," she beckoned him closer and he did as he was told, letting the water seep into his boots as he came to stand beside her once more. He saw the dark water that they stood in and hoped there were no snakes slithering among the reeds._

"_I never knew my mother," Shea told him, still staring at the reflection of the moon on the water's surface, which was quivering now from a lazy breeze. She had already told him about how her mother died when she was too young to remember, but she had never told him what she was about to tell him that moment. "My dad said she was a mermaid, which wasn't true of course, but he liked to tell me stories when I was little, and I liked to imagine that she was amazing. So I found this place, and I would sit here, and I would think 'maybe if I could swim I could find her.' … So I jumped in." Rumpel looked at her in shock, but Shea continued, never meeting his eyes. "The surface of the water looks a lot different during the day, but once I was falling into the depths it became so dark. I knew that I wouldn't be able to see her. _

"_I don't know if the next part really happened, or if I dreamed it. I found myself staring up at the sun again, but I couldn't see anyone that might have saved me. I thought perhaps it was my mother, but there was a little frog there, staring at me. And he spoke to me. He told me I ought to be more careful, that I had almost landed on his castle. 'Your castle?' I asked, and he said that in his world he was a prince. In his world you could be anything you wanted to be, because the water would bend to your will." Shea chuckled and finally looked up at Rumpelstiltskin. "Alright, looking back I can tell that it was definitely a dream. But it gave me an idea. What if we could shape our own lives? What if destiny molded to our wills like water to a container? " She scooped some water into her hands and brought it up so that he could see the reflection of the sky. "Look," she said with a grin, "I'm holding the moon in the palm of my hand." _

_Without thinking, Rumpel cupped Shea's hands with his own. He could feel the water seeping from between her fingers and pouring into his. "You are so beautiful," he whispered with awe. She didn't just hold the moon in the palm of her hands, she held it in her eyes and her smile, and she was offering it to him, along with the rest of the sky._

_But he couldn't have it._

_As he opened his mouth to say something he would probably regret, a frog croaked loudly, causing both of them to jump as it leapt towards them from the shallow water. _

"_Look! It's him!" Shea laughed as she grabbed her skirts and chased after it, splashing water around as she pounced on top of the amphibian. With a victorious grin she held up her catch of the day, a bloated green and brown frog that tried to wiggle out of her fingers. "Look how cute he is, Rumpel. Kiss him!" _

"_Oh no," he chuckled as he stumbled back, almost losing his footing as his feet stuck to the bottom of the pond. "I'm not that drunk."_

_She laughed again and placed the frog back in the water. It scooted away almost immediately, sending up bubbles where it disappeared. "I love frogs. Dream or no, I think I will always see them as rescuing me from a watery grave." Turning, she sloshed back towards Rumpelstilskin. "Guess we should head home." He nodded and they made their way back to town, pausing so Shea could pull her shoes back on. "Speaking of which, I was wondering if you could do me a favor."_

"_And what would that be?"_

"_Well…" she swallowed hard, trying to form the words in her head before they spilled out of her mouth. Delicate, she must be delicate. "Um, I'm afraid I need a place to stay…"_

"_Your father turned you out?" he asked, his tone in disbelief. _

"_Not exactly," she explained. "I may actually be in the process of running away." She gave him a sheepish, pleading look. _

_Rumpel shook his head, trying to understand. "Whatever for?"_

_Shea began squeezing some of the water out of her skirts. It gave her something to do while she avoided looking at the man beside her. "He wants to marry me off—basically sell me off, really, to save the mill. I—."_

"_You'll have to stay with the sheep," Rumpel decided abruptly, cutting her off. There was something very adverse about the idea of her getting married, and something downright horrible about the idea of her being married to someone she didn't even know. He knew a thing or two about arranged marriages, maybe not a lot, but enough to know that he didn't want Shea to be subjected to it. He successfully ignored the pang of jealousy. _

_Soon he was pounced upon, much like the frog had been, as Shea wrapped her arms around his neck. "Oh thank you, Rumpel!" she cried into his neck. Once again he felt his body heat up and was awkwardly aware of his hands. He felt like a hero and a scoundrel at the same time._

* * *

><p>Penelope watched Mr. Gold's limp with childlike fascination as she followed him through his house. She had always known he had problems with his knee, but had never really cared. Every day seemed to open up more emotions and revelations to her, and she wondered what the institution had been feeding her that she felt like such a different person without the crutch of medication.<p>

She didn't ask where they were going. She didn't feel much of a need to, since she had nowhere else to go. Her immediate future, which had always been nothing more than white walls and trays with plastic cups, had somehow gone rogue; Mr. Gold was now her North Star. Funny how things work out.

"So what happened to your leg?" she was still staring at it, head cocked to one side as if curiosity weighed down the right side of her brain.

"Fourteen years and just now getting to know me, eh?" he gave her a sideways grin as he winked at her. "Perhaps I'll let you wait fourteen more before I tell you." He continued walking but stopped as he realized that she had frozen with his remark. Looking back at her, he could see the color drained from her face.

Though much of the terrain had yet to be mapped and understood, her mind was something well visited, as she often retreated to it when scared, angry or confused. Here she wrapped herself in her security blanket, the fort that no amount of battery could desecrate, and looked through a little window she had hidden away that held everything she hoped to have one day. Most of the time the glass was frosted over, so she could barely make out what was on the other side of it. On this particular occasion she found herself frantically rubbing the glass with her cold little hands, wishing she could imagine a future for herself or make some sort of goal. Wishing she could make a wish.

"I… I didn't think…" Penelope stuttered, and Mr. Gold's soft voice so close to her shoulder startled her, but in an impossibly comforting way.

"Nevermind dearie," he whispered, "I didn't mean for you to think that you would always be trapped here."

She blinked and shook her head, her brow furrowed as she corrected him. "No… I've just never thought that far ahead. I…" Gold was only a few inches taller than Penelope, barely a head, and it seemed to bring him closer to her, so that he was all that she could see. Why did all of her memories of him paint him as someone that towered over her? When she realized she could smell the clean scent of his cologne she stepped back a little, suddenly uncomfortable with her lack of personal space. "I guess I just never realized what time was," she finished. "It always seemed to stand still in that place."

How could he tell her just how accurate she was? Mr. Gold shrugged, unperturbed by Penelope's shyness, and not a bit surprised. Instead he redirected her towards their route, certain that it would aid in her trust. "Come here. I want to show you something," he said to her as he cast open a door that led out onto the veranda. "Perhaps it will make you feel more at home."

There was a large aquarium that had the perfect amount of sunlight and shade placed along the railing next to a bench. Shea leaned over and looked inside, her eyes running over the dirt, sticks and various vegetation inside. "What is it?" she asked.

In response to her question Gold reached into the glass container and pulled out something green and brown and dropped it into her hands. She made a look of disgust as the frog croaked at her. "It's squishy." She said. She turned it over in her hands like an inanimate object before dropping it back in the aquarium, watching as it dove into the water that filled up one side of its personal little ecosystem.

Gold watched her carefully, both hands placed on top of his cane. "I thought you might enjoy a companion."

"Thanks," she said, still staring at the creature. "I've never seen one before. What is it?"

Of course, he should have known that this would happen. Part of the curse was that Regina, the darkest of souls, would take away anything that caused a person joy. He had been lucky in protecting a few precious things from her power; after all, it was _his_ curse, and his luck was aided by the fact that Regina had never known a girl named Shea, though the threat of discovery was ever present. There were countless thousands of people that Regina never knew, but nevertheless condemned. This one was his, and he would prove that he was the one in control.

"It's a mermaid," he told her.

* * *

><p><strong>:Sometime in Fairytale World:<strong>

_It was shortly after his daughter had become Queen that Henry began receiving the letters. He had been successful in hiding the papers from his clever daughter, but was worried that the subject of which would shortly end up at his door. _

_And a second daughter was a bit harder to hide than a scrap of paper. _

_After his wife had died, Henry had foolishly sought solace between the legs of another woman, a servant girl that often held odd jobs at several places, one of which included his mill. Once he left to live awash in the luxuries of the castle, another man took over, who she ended up marrying, but she was accusing Henry of being the father of her child. Unfortunately for him, the timing fell into place. _

_The new miller's wife wanted money, which he could easily give her, but Henry wasn't foolish; he knew it wouldn't end there. He was going to have to tie up this loose end so that he would never be in danger of being discovered. He couldn't bear to see the disappointment and anger in his daughter's eyes—she was already going through so much as it was. _

_He considered his eldest daughter as he racked his brain for a solution to the younger. They had gone from paupers to royalty in three days because of his daughter's special abilities; perhaps his other daughter had the same skills. If Henry could find a neighboring kingdom interested in making a deal, he could pass his problem to somebody else. The best thing would be that if she was discovered as false, she would be put to death and the woman would have nothing to hold over his head. He knew it was cruel, but his life was finally starting to go somewhere, and he would NOT allow anyone to tear it apart. _

_And if that meant that he had to send an innocent girl to her doom, so be it._

* * *

><p><strong>I know the last part is confusing. It's supposed to be. <strong>

**So we get to see a little bit more of Rumpel as a man, albeit a drunk one. Still, I'm kind of glad how this chapter came out. Most of it is kind of cut and paste, but it ended up flowing almost seamlessly. I was surprised. Don't let the sweetness between the two in this chapter fool you! Something had to happen in his past for him to want revenge on Penelope, right? Schitz about to go down in a couple of chapters!**

**If anyone cares, Shea is pronounced (in my mind) Shay-uh. I was looking for some names from some lesser known legends and fables, and Shea means cunning or something along that line. I felt it was pretty close to Penelope in that respect. **

**So just so you know, the Beauty and the Beast reference was made BEFORE "Skin Deep." And I had not seen the previews. I had no idea, but I decided to keep it.**

**I think I will probably include Belle in the story. That will be interesting. I mean, they both spent time in a mental hospital.**

**Also, if you recognize the whole bit "I give very good advice" from Shea's gbf, you should. I stole it from Alice and Wonderland. Thanks, Disney!**


End file.
